My Estel
by Archiril
Summary: An old Legolas-meets-Estel-story. May be different than other stories in this category, you decide! Estel is one year old, Legolas about 16 in human years.
1. Night

**Hey! Welcome at this story! Some things you might wanna know:**

**- it's gonna be a short fic, two chapters I would think (may be three, but probably not)  
****- translations of elvish can be found directly behind the elvish sentence, not at the bottom of the page  
- Ynnealay pointed this out for me, so she is much appreciated! :) Apparently, Tolkien once wrote in 'Morgoth's Ring' that 20 Human years = 50 elvish years. This would make Legolas 40 years old. Since this is far younger than most fics and the movies make up, I altered it a little. The ratio is now 20/500. In this story, Legolas is 400 years old, which would be the equivalent of a 16-year-old human. Estel is not even one year old here.**

**BETA: thewayfaringstrangers**

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**Amberly Eldin: Thank YOU for your reviews :) Hope this is also of your liking :)**

**angelfabeth: Thank you for all your reviews :) You really gave me a boost to write! :)**

**Arwenia: Glad you stay here! :) Thank you! You made me blush! :) I just put one word behind the other, but I glad you liked it :)**

**Clavina: And may they be in yours! :) *bows***

**Erynel: Thank you very very much :) I'm so glad you liked it!**

**Ink Mage: Well, yes, I had to keep the end open for future sequels :)**

**Luka'sBlade: Well... perhaps it is not. After I've seen te second movie, I'll decide :)**

**Melanie: Perhaps this can sooth the pain a bit? :P**

**Muirgheal-of-Lantern-Waste: I loved your review! :) And I liked that little fact :) Do you have other ones? :P**

**Pie in the Face: Yeah, now that you say it... but as I said to someone else, they entered Panem mysteriously, so they had to leave it in the same fashion, or the realistic effect would be blown up :P Thank you! :)**

**Pipking in the Grass: You're more than welcome here :) What does Pipkin mean actually?**

**TheButterflyCurse996: Haha, your presence is just a constante :) I love it! :)**

**Ynnealay: Thank you for your review :) I sent you a pm :)**

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It was a sad sight Elrond saw when he opened the door.

A lone elf was sitting dangerously far out on the open balcony, his feet dangling meters above the ground. He was staring straight before him. It seemed he wasn't even aware of the Elf-Lord, standing in the entrance of his room.

In fact, it seemed as if he wasn't aware of anything. Not of few birds that were hopping next to him to cheer him up with their songs**;** nor of the trees that were extending their branched in a consolatory gesture**;** or of the rain that was soaking his clothes and golden hair, dripping down from his face and mingling with his silent tears. He just sat there, as he had done from the moment he had arrived, refusing to eat or to speak.

Elrond kept on standing there for a few more minutes, hoping that, perhaps, the elf would acknowledge his presence. But it was vain hope, and he knew it. The prince hadn't talked for nearly overa week. There was no reason why he should break the silence now.

But he had to break free of the grief some time.

The elf-lord sighed.

"Legolas?" The elf didn't even move.

"I brought you some food. I can understand that you're not very hungry, but you have to eat something."

Slowly, Elrond stepped into the dark room. No candles were lit to expel the night, and most of the curtains were closed, except for the one that lead to the balcony. The darkness made it more difficult to see the things that littered on the floor and everywhere else. A cloak was thrown onto a chair, but had slid off. Debris from a thrown vase was scattered all over the floor. A mirror on the wall too, was broken. Only the bed remained untouched, although some packets had been tossed upon it. He should have servants cleaning up this room tomorrow.

Elrond shook his head, but he didn't comment on the ruins of one of his best rooms. Instead, he lowered the cup he was holding a little so that Legolas could easily see it –if he would only turn his head.

"It's a very light soup, penneth, so don't tell me you're not hungry. The cook assured me that one could eat this even after he had gone to a festivity of the Periannath**.** You do remember the Periannath, don't you? Mithrandir surely told you about them." Legolas' face remained blank, but when Elrond held the cup nearer to him, a pale hand listlessly pushed it away. The elf-lord frowned.

"Tithen pen, you have to eat something." He came closer again, but then he changed his mind. It was no use forcing him to take the cup. This lethargy was only a symptom of his mental wounds. And as a healer, Elrond knew he had to treat the source of the pain, not the side effects. So he just put aside the cup and sat down next to Legolas.

"Penneth…" he sighed, full of pity and pain that this young one had to suffer so. Carefully, he laid his hand on Legolas**' **shoulder and pulled him closer, until the golden head was resting against his shoulder. The prince did not resist, but neither did he relax or nestle deeper in Elrond's clothes. He was like a doll, lifeless and empty.

"Your father has told me what happened." Legolas cringed, but did not pull away or say anything.

"It was not your fault, Legolas. There was nothing you could have done."

"You don't know that." His once fair voice was so quiet and hoarse that Elrond could barely understand him, but the words were there, and even though they were pained and full of remorse and bitter anger, they filled Elrond's heart with joy. But he could not show it.

"You cannot take the weight of the world on your shoulders, tithen pen. Through every living creature, every occurrence, Illuvatar's song is flowing. Some things are just meant to be, Legolas, lest other things that should have happened could not happen, and chaos would erupt."

"So my mother had to die? Is that what you say?" His voice was now completely drained of power and strength, flat and emotionless. Elrond chose his words carefully, not to lose him again.

"I think she has played her role, and now she can rest. She is happy now, penneth, sleeping in Mandos' Halls. I-"

"So you think she was not happy with us, that she had to die?"

"Penneth…"

"Please leave me alone, Lord Elrond." The elf-lord stood up, but he lingered there, hoping that he could come up with the right words to put the prince's heart at ease. But he began to understand that Legolas refused to be comforted right now, no matter what he would say.

Gently, Elrond laid his hand upon his shoulder. Legolas just turned and stared at him, his great blue eyes filled with sorrow, his wet hair sticking on his young face.

"I just want to be alone," he repeated. Slowly, Elrond nodded, and retreated to the door. There, he paused a moment, without turning.

"If you need me, I'll be in the room next to you." Then he closed the door behind him, shutting away the image of the sad elf, soaked by the rain and his own, silent tears.

Once the elven prince couldn't see him anymore, he let his carefully constructed mask break and buried his head in his hands. Such grief in one so young. Such pain and anger. Even though his mind recoiled of the thought, he briefly pondered that it was possible he would not be able to save Thranduil's youngest son –a disastrous blow for Mirkwood so soon after they had lost their queen, and a wave of sorrow for Rivendell as well, for many knew the young archer, and respected and loved him. And even if he could save his life, Legolas would forever carry the scars.

Sighing, he opened his eyes again, pushing the future away. For now, he had done what he could. Tomorrow would bring a new day –perhaps it would also bring hope.

At that last thought, a rare smile glide over his face. He had found Hope already.

Silently, he walked to the room left of Legolas' and noiselessly opened the door. The room was dark, though the curtains revealed just a glimpse of the starlight, and a single candle was placed in the corner, spilling its light over the cradle.

Nothing moved. His youngest son had to be in a deep sleep. A blessing, for usually the baby's nights were filled with images of his father's death. When he grew up, he would forget everything about it, though. Only the fear and the chaos would remain, giving him a scar that would cover his heart for eternity, even though the pain would soften through time. But for now, the child's spirit still remembered, and feared.

"Melui elei, ion nin. Fuin sen anann dâf ù presto lle môr." (Sweet dreams, my son. Let the darkness of these times not disturb your sleep.)

After one last, loving look at Estel, he carefully closed the door again and went to his own study. It was late already, and he had not had much sleep in these troubled days. He would be able to help Legolas better if he himself was rested. But when he had entered his room, his eye fell upon the letter, still in the middle of his writing desk. Thranduil's letter. He picked it up, thoughtlessly. Even though he knew the content by heart now, his eyes unconsciously scanned the words again.

_Thranduil Oropherion  
Eryn Lasgalen  
March 14__th__, Year 2934 of the Third Age._

_To Lord Elrond Eärendilion  
Rivendell_

_Lord Elrond,_

_Tragedy has befallen our realm. You must forgive me for my handwriting, my old friend, for I can barely see the parchment through my tears. My wife, my beautiful Lhantelin__, has fallen into the shadow! She was slain by yrch while taking a ride over the Elven Path. These vile creatures –their names and bodies by cursed- become bolder by the day. Lhantelin's__company was unprepared. Many of them fell._

_Legolas was with them, Elrond. He saw everything happening. And even though he is only a bit over 400 years old, he insists it was his fault. Elrond, my friend, I beg you, save him! For I fear that grief will consume him, and take him from me like the yrch took my wife._

_Yours sincerely_

_Thranduil of Eryn Lasgalen_

"Lord Elrond?" Lindir, the bard of the Hall of Fire, was standing in the opening of the door, his eyes slightly worried. It spoke volumes if Lord Elrond didn't hear someone approaching in his own house. The lord turned and saw the hesitating look in his friend's eyes. He tried to smile.

"Everything is fine, Lindir," he spoke softly, even though the last word left a bitter taste in his mouth. A child was dying in the room next to him, everything from fine –but there was nothing Lindir, or even he himself could do right now.

And besides, he could not share his worries about Thranduil's youngest son with the bard. Lindir was a very fine elf, and an amusing friend, but he spent most of his time singing and composing, and had little eye for the world around Rivendell. He barely knew King Thranduil, and, though he admired Legolas for his fair voice and had spent much of his time with the prince when he came to the haven, he could not advise Elrond in this matter. So Elrond just smiled lightly again, putting the letter back on his desk and raised an eyebrow.

"What matter do you want to discuss so late in the evening?"

"Glorfindel requires your presence in the stables. His mare is about to give birth, but seemingly, there are some complications. He asks for your aid in this."

Elrond frowned lightly. He truly longed for a full night of rest, but if Glorfindel desired his help, there was something really wrong. His friend cared greatly about horses, and knew everything about them. Elrond seldom had to help him. If his knowledge about the noble animals didn't suffice, there was a great chance Elrond would have to call for his own healing powers.

Or perhaps Glorfindel didn't want to take risks, not with his valuable mare. She was one of the finest horses to walk this earth, blessed with the blood of the Mearas. The golden elf was very proud of her, and highly protective. He could not bare to lose her.

Either way, it didn't look like he was going to get a lot of sleep this night.

"I will be on my way in a moment, Lindir." The bard bowed lightly, and rushed away to warn Glorfindel –even though he would not be much of an aid, since he knew nothing about horses. Still, perhaps his music could sooth them.

Quickly, Elrond changed his clothes. There had been some official announcements and meetings, but he doubted whether his refined clothes would impress the unborn foal. Just before he left for the stables, he laid an ear against Estel's door. Everything was quiet. He fervently prayed that it would stay so this night, or at least these first hours, until Elrond was back in his room, where he would hear the crying. He hoped the birth wouldn't take the whole night.

Then he sped down the stairs, leaving the hall behind, empty and silent.

**Hope you liked it! Please review!**

**xXx Archiril**


	2. Remark

**Hey!**

**I'm truly sorry for the long wait. It was quite hard to write this chapter. Good news is that it's longer than usual, and that it's finished.**

**Now, I'm leaving on holiday again, untill friday. There will be no updates until then, but I promise you'll get the new chapter saturday.**

**Have a nice time, and until then!**

**xXx Archiril**


	3. Dawn

**Hey! I'm truly sorry this update came so late. It was really, really busy, and this chapter was quite hard to write. I'm not too glad about it, but it has to do. **

**This is the last chapter. Next story will take some time, I'll have to think about one. Please abide with me! ;)**

**REVIEWED: thewayfaringstrangers**

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**angelfabeth: Truly? I just translated 'son of Earendil'. But did he abandon the right to use that title by chosing for an elvish life? Just curious :)**

**Arwenia: Thank you! It was marvellous :)**

**Frodo's sister: He was? Oww, my mistake. I fear I can't change it anymore, but i'll keep it in mind for future stories. Thank you! :)**

**Halororum3: It is. I'm sorry for the long wait, it was quite busy.**

**Muirgheal-of-Lantern-Waste: Haha, thank you for the compliment :) Yes, well, that what most fangirls want to read. Don't you have the same feeling when you're reading a book and you're just in love with a character? I always want them to be hurt, or to do something special, for it means a lot of attention goes to them :)**

**Nessa Ar-Feiniel: Thank you! **

**She Elf Of Hidden Lore: Beautiful pen name! Thank you! I admit I'm not very well in remembering their ages, I just make up something :) But it's more or less accurate :P And besides, Tolkien never mentioned Legolas' age, or did he? :)**

**TheButterflyCurse996: Well, it was a bit too obvious, was it not? :P Did you now manage to read the mail? :P**

**Ynnealay: Thank you! Another wonderful review -yes, I was blushing again :P. I answered in a mail ;) I fear next story won't come too soon, but I'll keep thinking. :)**

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He was standing near a river. He didn't know its name, though. The forest that was surrounding it looked very much like his beloved Eryn Lasgalen, but where the Anduin was wild and impetuous, this river was deep and abstruse, flowing lazily along the banks, its water dark and somewhat threatening.

Hesitantly, Legolas approached it. He knew that he shouldn't do it. He knew he should fight it. He knew something horrible was going to pass as soon as he entered the river. But an unknown force dragged him forwards, one he couldn't resist. Slowly, ever so slowly, his feet took him to the black river, until he was standing at its border. Then, for the first time, he looked up.

At first, he didn't see much. Mist was swirling over the water, a white, dense cloak that contrasted sharply with the darkness of the river. Mysteriously, seductively, it beckoned him closer with snow-white fingers, whispering in his ears a strange faery song. He had no choice but to obey it. He stepped forwards.

Somewhat disconnected_ly_, he felt how the cold water enfolded his ankles. Almost immediately, he couldn't feel his feet anymore. The icy threads climbed higher, through his legs, his hips, his chest. He began to shiver. When the cold reached his hands and his eyes, a strange coolness spread through his skull, and he noticed he was no longer bound by the spell. The mist had ceased whispering. Instead, it was clearing out now.

Immediately, Legolas halted, knee-deep in the river and stared before him. The white curtain had disappeared completely. He could finally see the other bank. _He _looked across –and gasped. A figure, all too familiar, was standing there, sadly, solemnly.

"Naneth?" The fair lady only smiled mournfully, though she didn't come closer. Quickly, Legolas tried to walk to her, but a new spell seemed to have captured him, and he couldn't move his feet. The ice in the water had frozen him. The elf tried several times in vain to free himself, failing miserably. He turned to the queen.

"Naneth? Why won't you come to me?" She didn't speak. She just stood there, silently. Her long gown was almost transparent, and the fading light in her eyes made it difficult to see her expression. Somehow though, Legolas felt the mood in the air shifting. Lhantelin stood more upright, her shoulders were tenser, her eyes grew colder. It seemed that all of a sudden, another woman had taken her place. She was no longer the tender mother he had lost, but a queen of the dark forest. When she spoke at last, her voice was as cold as the chill winds that send snow and ice to smother summer and autumn.

"You killed me." The accusation in the sentence was so sharp that Legolas stumbled back as if he was physically hit.

"I… No! It was not my intention! I…"

"You killed me." As she talked, other shades appeared. Warriors with bloodied swords. Archers with cracked bows. Spearmen with _only the broken shafts of their weapons_.

They all stared at him, melancholy and accusingly.

"You killed me." Solemnly, they joined her, though their mouths did not move. Louder and louder they chanted those terrible words.

"You killed us."

"No…" Desperately, Legolas threw his hands around his ears and fell upon his knees. Every syllable seemed to pierce him _like_ a knife. "Please, don't…"

"You killed us. You killed us. You killed us."

The coldness of the water enveloped him, and he plunged into it, hoping that the chill would dispel the vision. But it didn't. Instead, it embraced him with icy arms, pricking him with _it's_ frosty needles, adding thus to the pain in his heart. It became harder to breath now. His lungs were frozen.

"You killed us you killed us you killed us you killed us you killed"

"NO!"

With a gasp, Legolas sat upright in his bed. His panting breath was the only sound in his room. Panicking, he looked around him, half expecting to see the shades of his mother and her warriors appear around him. It was so dark in here. Almost as black as the river…

In a fearful rush, Legolas grabbed for a pouch with tinder and threw it unto the smouldering ashes in the grate-fire. He barely had to blow to rekindle the fire. The dry material caught flames almost immediately. In a matter of seconds, a comforting warmth spread throughout the chamber. Gratefully, Legolas send a little blessing for the servants who were in charge of the fire in the guestrooms. He knew he hadn't made life easy for them –refusing to acknowledge their presence, making no effort at all to appreciate their work, not even thanking them when they left him- but right now, he asked Eru to give them joyful lives and a shadow that won't diminish. Then he looked over his shoulder **i**nto the corners of the room.

No ghosts.

Now that the chamber was bathed in the warm, reddish light, the horror and adrenaline that had made his limbs tremble faded. Somewhere back in his mind, he felt a faint relief that he already knelt before the fire, otherwise he was sure he would have fallen. Closing his eyes, he just leant forwards, until his forehead touched the warm floor. His hair was floating dangerously close near the open fire, but now, he truly didn't care. A deep sigh escaped his throat.

He didn't know how long he sat there, bent forwards. The light behind the thick curtains changed a little –the silvery glitter of the stars became mixed with a hint of warmth, a sign that dawn was not far away- but perhaps it was already well past sunrise, and the sky was clouded. Slowly, very slowly, the tension in his muscles faded away, and his laboured breathing became a little easier, as the shadows of the night slowly left him. He hated being this weak, but still, he could not change it. It was his punishment.

When he had composed himself once more, Legolas raised his head and listened. Everything was silent. He frowned a little, confused. The few nights he had fallen asleep, the nightmare had always returned, making him scream like a child when he woke up. And always, Elrond had been there, next to him, hushing him, and singing sweet melodies. Ashamed, Legolas had never been able to muster the courage to speak to him, or even to look at him. Instead, he had withdrawn in himself, until the lord left, disappointed, and only then the elf would looked up, to go to the balcony and scream his pain and guilt to the nature around him.

But Elrond wasn't here now. And he didn't know whether he should feel relief or sorrow. The soothing presence of the elf-lord had been an intruding constant, and now it was gone.

All of a sudden, the silence was ripped apart by a loud wail. Immediately, Legolas grabbed for his weapons, only to realize that they weren't in the room, and he cursed softly. That moment of thought was enough however, to calm him a little. He did not relax completely, but at least he wouldn't attack any unfortunate elf that might enter his room now without a second thought.

Another wail. Legolas' eyes widened as he realized what he was hearing. A baby! That could not be! No elf-children had been born in this haven for a very long time. Legolas himself was considered as one of the youngest of his people. Surely the news of thecoming of another child would have spread to Mirkwood, just as waves rippled over the water when a pebble disturbed the surface.

But there it was again. The heart-wrenching sound of a hurt child. Legolas wondered where lord Elrond was. Surely the elf-lord would come quickly to the sound?

But minutes past, and no opening ofdoors or hasty steps were heard, only the pitiful crying. Legolas tried to ignore it. He had not the heart to leave the room. Not so soon.

Please, Lord Elrond. Go to it. Let it stop! The wailing brought back memories of his mother.

Several minutes passed again, and the child was still _**,**_ Legolas couldn't take it anymore. He spr_a_ng up and almost broke the door in his haste to open it. Then he stormed into the room next to him… and halted mid-step.

The room was beautiful. The curtains had been drawn back completely, so that light –whether it was from the stars or from the fiery sun- could play within the chamber. The walls themselves were painted in a dark blue, with many silver glimmers on them, and even the moon was present. On the other side of the room, a light forest was depicted, green and mysterious, but full of joy. The third wall held Minas Tirith on it, gloriously lit by the sun, and the Riders of Rohan arriving there. The last part was painted in the soft colours of the sunset, and the sea and the havens breathing out peace and bliss.

But Legolas didn't pay any attention to his surroundings. His eyes were fixed on the little cradle in the middle of the room –or better, upon the small, tearful face of the baby inside it. From the moment the elf had appeared in the chamber, the child had stopped crying, and was now staring in wonder at the disheveled elf. Even as Legolas watched, a small smile was beginning to show beneath his tears. He stretched out a tiny hand, cooing softly. Legolas sighed in relief. The horrible, lonely noise had finally ceased.

He turned and exited the room again. He hadn't evenreached his own chamber though before a new wave of wailing rose from the child's room. The elf cursed softly. Apparently, he would have to give more effort to regain his silence. Swiftly, he went over to the cradle, making sure he didn't crush any of the scattered toys beneath his feet. As soon as the child saw his face, he stopped crying and laughed happily. Two tiny hands stretched towards the elf's face again.

"Now, now, penneth. Please stop crying. It makes me very saddened when you cry. So don't do it anymore, alright?" Legolas said uncertainly, his voice hoarse from the long silence. He really wasn't used to children, but he hoped the baby would understand the message.

"Baba. Babada. Da da." The child kept on making noises, while sucking contently on his big toe. His big eyes remained fixed upon the elf.

"Good. Then we have an agreement, don't we?" Carefully, Legolas started to walk back to the door. When he reached the closet halfway the room, the babbling behind him ceased, and a mournful, wailing sound rose. Sighing, the elf turned again.

"Now, now, none of that. We had a deal, remember? No more crying." Stubbornly, the child stretched his arms and bent his back, as if he wanted to push himself out of his cradle. He let out another pitiful wail. Legolas bowed his head in acceptance.

"Well, I guess that a deal goes both ways. Okay, I'll hold you for a moment, but then you'll go back to sleep and be still, all right?" A bit awkwardly, the elf took the little bundle in his arms and held it close. It was so small! Legolas felt as if the child could break any moment. Very, very carefully, he shifted him until they had both reached a comfortable position. The child immediately grabbed for a golden lock, and held it firmly.

"Don't pull. Don't pull – aie! That's not very nice of you," Legolas protested, frowning. There was no chance he could put the bay back in his crib when he was tugging so hard on his hair. Gently, he tried to entangle his tresses from the tiny finger_s_, but the child was remarkably strong and wouldn't let go. He had obtained his little treasure and no one in the world would be able to make him abandon it. So the elf bent his head a little more forwards and resignedhimself tohis fate.

Only then didhe see the round ears, and he gasped softly.

"You're a human!" For a moment, he was frozen. Suppressed memories returned in all theirmight, claiming his mind and his vision. He saw the village. The Men forwhom he had begged his mother to finally come andsee the strange race. The brute hunters. Their desirous gazes, both fortheir luxurious clothing and for his mother. The blood. And all of a sudden, a rush of anger welled upinside of him, drowning out the grief. His face turned into a horrible grimace as he looked at the human child, putting him back in his cradle rather forcefully. The hard tug at his hair only served to fuel his anger.

"You're a human! You**-** It's your fault! It's your fault my mother died!" Legolas began to scream, not caring if anyone could hear it. Every ounce of guilt, fear and sorrow now came to a violent explosion. The baby had fallen silent and was not crying –to Legolas' slight surprise- but staring at him with shocked eyes, his hands and legs pressed close to his tiny body.

"You and your kin! Be cursed! Why did she have to die? Who gave you the right to ruin everything you lay your hands on? You are just little children, too clumsy and blind to see things as they are! Always nagging and breaking and destroying, always so quick to anger and so cold in your speech to others, even though your words are friendly! Why do you always have to destroy everything?" His last words were nothing more than a sob, and he fell on his knees, his head leant against the cradle. And for the first time in the many days after his mother had died, Legolas cried.

He cried long and hard, allowing the tears to wash away all the guilt and anger he had felt when he had been sent to Rivendell to heal. Only the grief remained, as it would remain for many, many years, but the pain also held a touch of hope, a promise that one day, the sorrow wouldn't be that bitter anymore, that one day, he would be able to recall happier memories of is mother. And slowly, very slowly, his tears dried.

By the time he looked up again, the sun was well up, andstreaming into the room, red and golden, as ifto shame the blush that had appeared on Legolas' wet cheeks when he remembered how he had screamed against the little baby. It amazed him that he hadn't heard any crying in his rage. He'd better leave now, before Lord Elrond came and found him in the children's room, upsetting his new charge.

Slowwithshame and exhaustion, he rose and turned to the door, but an exultant cry stopped him. Astonished, he looked at the cradle. The baby was staring back at him, with a great grin upon his face, his hand as of old stretched out to him in an imploring gesture. His eyes held no accusation or fear, but an innocent pleasure. Hesitantly, Legolas walked back to the crib.

"What do you want, penneth?" The other hand was now stretched as well, and the child giggled in pre-anticipation.

"Alright, I get it. I guess it's the least I can do now." For the second time in one night, Legolas held the warm body in his arms, and wondered about the soft breathing and the quick heartbeat he felt under his hands. Children were a treasure indeed for elves, and now that he was not blinded by grief or anger, he felt a strange protectiveness for this baby well up in his heart. Tenderly, he breathed in the sweet smell of talc and life, and stroked with his nose over the child's skull.

"Forgive me, penneth," he whispered so softly. Perhaps he didn't even speak it out loud, perhaps he only thought it. But the baby in his arms relaxed with a happy babbling, and sighed contently. Within a few minutes, he was fast asleep, a golden strand of hairlocked in his hand.

Only there, in the warm glow of the rising sun, Legolas felt how tired he actually was. He had neitherslept nor eaten for days, and he finally allowed his body to show it. Before he knew what he did, he had plumped down in a chair next to the cradle, with his precious treasure still in his arms, and laid his head against the rail. And he slept.

That was how Elrond found them later that morning when he appeared to check on his youngest, disheveled and with some straw in his hair. The foal had been born, laboriously, but both mother and child were well now. As he had expected, the birth had taken all night. He hadn't even been able to see to Estel even for a few minutes. But it would seem his child hadn't been alone tonight. And that he was not the only one who had had some respite from his nightmares.

Silently, he closed the door and smiled. A vision had come true. A thread in Vairë's tapestry had been put on the loom. And even though he knew it would be long before the elven prince and the young human would meet again, he felt a deep happiness that his youngest son would not have to face his destiny alone.

Legolas stayed in Rivendell for another week, mainly to build his strength up again. Then he departed for Mirkwood, for the shadow had grown again**,** and the people and the king needed their prince. And as Elrond had foreseen, it would be many, many years before he laid eyes upon Estel again.

But that's a tale for another time.

**Perhaos you would like to hear this other tale now, or would you rather like another not Legolas-meet-Aragorn-story? Let me know!**

**xXx Archiril**


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